The Peppered Moth
by alice cullen rocks socks
Summary: Alice Cullen loves being a vampire, but when she comes across an old photo of her past, she wonders if there was more to her life than first revealed... While her search into her past gets deeper, somewhere close a part of her past is eager to find her.
1. Prologue

Prologue

An Insane Asylum, Mississippi, 1920

Alice studied the moth with fascinated patience. Outwardly it was an ugly creature with a fuzzy body and coal complexion yet it was the wings that had captured her. As it lifted them slowly, Alice could see beautifully faded patterns covered their span. Her finger began lightly tracing the same pattern across the floor, as if hoping this would be enough to plant them in her memory.

There was no use looking for any sort of drawing materials – her room had been searched so many times she was surprised that there had been anything left. When the visions started coming during the first few days, all pencils and paper were removed. By the end of the first month, there was nothing left for her to fashion as a drawing tool.

Being careful not to disturb the creature, she rested her head on the wall. Her legs, pulled up against her chest, began to protest against the hard floor, but she refused to move. The moth flexed its wings a little quicker as if to take flight, and she went to stop it. Quickly correcting herself, Alice stayed glued against the wall praying the moth would not fly off. It settled again, seeming quite at ease perching on the bed railings.

Shaking her head, she looked about her room. Where was the moth to go? She was so worried it would escape but, casting a fleeting glance about the room, she knew there was no hope of freedom for the little thing, apart from the door. Alice rarely gave her surroundings any notice now, preferring the numbness of the drugs to the reality of being left where she was. Terrifying words crept into her head: abandoned, deserted, unloved.

The room seemed to echo these words from its bare furniture scattered around carelessly, to the thick grey walls surrounding her. There were no windows in this room and sometimes Alice fancied she had been born in the dark. Secretly though, she knew she had a home, a family and a name rather than a number. She tried to forget and make the pain of being there easier, a little more bearable. But, despite the sting of betrayal she felt towards her parents, she longed for the honey tones of home.

Outside she could hear the growing clacks of footsteps as the staff approached each of the rooms. Each neat click of the nurse's boots on the parquet floor made Alice's heart thud painfully in her chest. It would be getting dark outside now, the checks always signalled the end of the day. As if the moth heard her, it flew towards the door and agitatedly began to beat against it, as if trying to escape before the daylight ran away.

No way out, Alice thought. Still, she moved closer toward the wall, squeezing out any possible gap. The clacks sounded louder and they were now joined with the jangling of keys. If only she was like a limpet, she hoped, and could stick to the wall so no one could move her. But she knew that it was no use, and when the door opened she would have to go somewhere she didn't want. The nurses could be heard moving again and she heard their keys scratch against her door and she flinched as if they were scratching _her_.

Suddenly, a deep set of footsteps could be heard marching down the corridor. The keys stopped rattling and a mumbled conversation could be heard taking place outside. The tone of the voice made her realise it was a man, probably holding a clean white clipboard with a head full of a medical encyclopaedia. She had had a lot of those over the last few months, still this voice sounded...familiar.

Alice tried to trick her mind into ignoring it, trying to prepare herself for the mental and physical onslaught of the shocks. A silent sob broke out between her teeth, and it was only then she realised she was shaking. She brushed her hands up and down her arms, but she knew she was not cold. Being frightened was worse than being angry, and her body was going to give her away just the same as it had done the last 32 times she had undergone it. She had counted.

She buried her head between her knees and tried to control herself. It was then she realised the voices outside had died, and the door was being pulled open. Before she had time to look up, the man's smooth white face was in front of hers. He looked disturbed about something and checked back to the door. She stared at him in shock, and he clearly waited for a reaction that was taking longer than usual to come. Her eyes widened and a huge smile broke across her face.

'Joe!'

He smiled back, his buttery eyes seeming to light up like they once had. Alice sat with her mouth agape, and in the few seconds he stared at her she knew he hadn't truly left. Why did she ever think he had? Almost as quickly as it had arrived, the smile on his face vanished and his head whipped back to the door again. He took a short breath before turning back to her.

'Alice, I need to you listen carefully. We have to move fast.'

***

The moth threw its tiny body against the door, longing for the light. As the door burst open, a gust of air propelled it out of the room. Still searching for an escape, it flew down the dark corridor. Its wings flailed wildly against the walls and doors, until a chink of light offered itself from a distant window. Frantic the moth made towards it, towards its freedom – the last chance of escape.


	2. Past Unanswered

Chapter One

Cullen Home, Montana, 2009

As she sat on the porch and stared out into the surrounding forest, Alice could see why people fell in love with Montana. This was one place that the family had actually never been before, and with the new additions to the family, it seemed to give everyone much needed breathing space.

The warm rays of sun slipped through the trees stretching golden bars across the deck. Alice extended her foot slightly so only the tip gave away what she really was. She wiggled her toes, delighting in the warm sensation, and they glistened back at her. A shadow seemed to pass across her thoughts and she wondered what it would have been like to feel warmth under her own skin, or the sensation of not constantly hiding from the sun. These melancholy thoughts had been more frequent now things had settled down in Montana, and they upset Alice. She didn't want to feel discontented with her life, not now she had got so much in it to hold her.

As her thoughts moved to Jasper, she felt the pull of a vision and watched as her husband made another unsuccessful attempt to sneak up on her. She rolled her eyes, and with a small smile playing on her lips, began to count down.

_3 ...2 ...1_

A pair of warm hands wrapped themselves around her, and she breathed in deeply, comforted by Jasper's warm musky scent. She leant up to kiss him, before reclining back and admiring his slightly disgruntled face.

'Caught me again huh?' he said. Although his tone was frustrated, Alice could see the corners of his lips turning up into an amused smile. He would try again tomorrow, and, as before, she would catch him. He settled himself next to her on the bench, and, there they sat for a while, in silence. Unlike most couples who communicated by words, they seemed to communicate more in the spaces in between.

Alice knew that Jasper was feeling her mood, trying to decipher what bothered her. She tried briefly to hide her sadness from him, not wanting him to suffer for her inexplicable longing for something she cannot have. But, eventually she gave up trying to disguise her mood and simply sat with him.

'We could go back' Jasper's voice was barely a whisper, even to her vampire hearing. Alice reluctantly pulled herself up from his lap and looked into his eyes. His words had taken her aback.

'How did you know?' Alice had always appreciated Jasper's insight into her emotions, but never had she thought they were so in-tune with her thoughts. If he had ever guessed at the reasons behind her emotions before, it was either because she had made them clear or they were lucky guesses.

A rueful smile crept onto his lips. 'It's getting easier to tell. You've been thinking about your past more since we've been here, I know. I can feel the difference – you sadness has more...longing.' His face contorted slightly, in pain, when he admitted that she felt sad.

She sighed. 'I know there's no reason for it Jazz, and I don't understand.'

She felt his finger slide across her forehead, gently tracing her frown, and he tilted her head up towards him 'It's okay to think about your past, Alice. Carlisle, Esme, Edward, Emmett, even I, have had the time to forgive our pasts, to forget them, even. You haven't had that comfort. And Rosalie...'

Alice suddenly looked panicked at Jasper. What if she became like Rosalie? Trapped in her own past, constantly vengeful and unable to enjoy her future. She couldn't...wouldn't be that. How could she be so upset about a past she never knew?

But before Alice was even halfway through her malicious thoughts, Jasper was shaking his head.

'No Alice. You will never be like Rosalie, your experiences are different. _You_ are different. And you know, I will always be in your future' He clasped her left hand in his own and turned her wedding band around on her finger.

Alice's thoughts brightened again at the thought of Jasper, her Jasper, the first time she had seen him. Dapper suit, hair glistening from the rain outside and frightened like a rabbit – it had been so simple then, everything sure and mapped out. What had changed? Nothing. Then why should it? Alice reasoned to herself that it shouldn't, and quashed any rising protests in her head.

'Alice?' Jasper was staring deeply down at her, and she realized it had been a while since she had spoken. She struggled to keep her emotions level and focused in on her precious memory of him.

'I'll drop it now, Jazz. If you're in my future, there's nothing much in my past I think I'll want.'

Jasper opened his mouth to protest, but Alice placed a finger over it and kissed him with as much love as she could muster into such a small physical action. When she pulled away though, she could still see the worry in his eyes.

'It's okay. Honestly.' She ran her hands through his hair and smiled in anticipation as another vision swept over her. Jasper looked at her curiously, feeling the waves of excitement coming from her.

'The past can wait for awhile...especially since the future looks so appealing!' Without another word, Jasper whisked Alice from the porch into the house.

How could she ever have been interested in her past, when her future was always so much brighter?

***

The old woman drew in one raspy breath after another, her veins popping out from her arms like rivers. She knew she had only got moments left before she left this world, and to leave the past in such a state mortified her. Her body lay quite still on the soft bed, a nurse sat quietly beside her – she no longer heard what she said. Her mind drifted across her cluttered room, from the collections of half-read books to discarded powders and lotions on the dressing table. But the most precious item lay out of her eye line, locked inside the wardrobe. It would only look like a dull wooden box to anyone who found it, stuffed with dusty papers, but it had always been something that had fascinated and scared her in equal measure. The mystery of her family just sitting there –

A jarring breath caught in her chest, and after a slight pause, she felt herself drift into darkness. Her thoughts of the box vanished, leaving it unclaimed.

The nurse tearfully arranged the woman so that she looked comfortable before drawing the curtains and leaving the room. Going downstairs, she picked up the phone and told the hospital that at 3am that morning, Evelyn Brandon had died.

***

Back in Montana, Alice shook with a start. Her naked body lifting itself from her husband's, she whirled towards the wardrobe – not quite aware of what she was doing and still dazed. She remembered flashes of the vision: An old woman, and the name Brandon had been brought up, so she supposed that had been her name. Then there was a box...yes! Definitely a box, with something important in it. The woman had clearly died in the vision and Alice briefly wondered whether she should feel sad for this potential relation of hers.

Turning round, she noticed Jasper standing concerned, but dressed and ready for action – one of the many perks of having an ex-soldier for a husband. He waited for her to speak, although by his expression he might have burst if she had made him wait any longer.

Unable to explain more, Alice tried to control her erratic breathing and spoke quickly,

'Something's happened...We are going to Mississippi, Jasper...now'


	3. Race against Time

**3. Race against Time**

The phone continued to buzz against the black leather dashboard. Neither Jasper nor Alice reached to pick it up, and it fell silent once again. The screen lit up and displayed nineteen missed calls from home.

"They'll be wondering where we are" Jasper said. It had been hours since either of them had spoken. The crisp morning sun filtered through the screen, and he neatly flicked on the tinted windows. The last thing they both wanted to cause was multiple road accidents with their glittering skin. The rocky border of Mississippi was turned black against the bright sky and nothing but a long stretch of road lay before them.

Alice's foot pushed harder on the accelerator. She had never been so desperate to find something in her life. Even with Jasper, she knew he would always be hers. But this box was slipping away, and she had to get it.

"I never knew you were afraid of me kidnapping you, Jazz!" She teased. Her ruse didn't fool him in the least, and he arched one eyebrow. The smile fell from her lips, and she let out a deep sigh. Alice never could get away with anything around him, even when she tried. He just knew her too well; he was definitely her better half.

"...They will cope. I bet this will get us back faster than we got here!" She mused, gently tapping the steering wheel.

"I don't think Edward had _this_ in mind, when he bought the car for you. After all, this _is_ what this 'trip' is all about isn't it? Family?"

Alice looked up at him, ashamed, and her foot eased up on the gas. The speedometer fell to 100mph. A frown settled across her pixie-like features. "How did you guess this time?"

He held up a slightly crumpled note with the name 'Evelyn Brandon' scrawled across in sharp pointy writing. Her own writing. Of course Jazz wouldn't be happy knowing half the truth, not when it came to her. As skilfully as he hid his emotions, she knew he was just as anxious about her past as she was.

Alice gave in and described the vision to him, in exactly as much detail as she had seen it. Nobody spoke for a full two minutes. Jasper ran a muscled hand through his wild hair, and reached out to take her hand in his own. His eyes, light ochre now after missing a hunt, were filled with concern.

"Why is all this important to you, Alice? Why now?"

She rebuffed his question and replied with one of her own. "What were your parents like?"

Jasper looked puzzled.

Without waiting for a reply, she tried again. "What did you like to eat before you were turned? The past is important Jazz."

Before he could protest, Alice reluctantly released her hand from his grasp, and placed a cool finger on his lips.

"I know it makes no sense to you, but...I have to know." She said, her voice cracking. She began to move her finger from his lips, when he slowly reached out and grasped it between two of his own. Leaning forward, he kissed it gently, and let her hand go. A delightful shiver ran down Alice's spine.

His mouth twisted into a smile as he felt the tingle of pleasure running through her body. She tried to make the feeling last, pushing the rising anxiety from the pit of her stomach. As they sped into Biloxi, it gave an uncomfortable lurch. She felt Jasper tense beside her, and attempted to distract herself by staring out the windscreen.

The houses were becoming more frequent now, and she slowed the car to a more respectable speed. The trees grew above the bright white houses, each with their own deck out front, and the grass was brittle and burnt. She hurried past the busy city centre, packed with neon-lit casinos, and took a turn heading out of town.

"What are you doing?" Jasper asked, bewildered.

"She didn't live in the centre. Remember the house? There was a field behind it. We'll have to go at least four miles south" Alice explained. Her face strained in concentration, trying to secure the image in her mind.

It didn't take long for the car to lose the bright lights of the city, for the dusty roads further south. Twisted trees grew out of the dry ground, and the houses became fewer and further apart. The knot in Alice's stomach continued to get tighter; her foot continued to ease up on the speed. The car had almost reached the speed limit when she spotted the house up ahead.

There was no way to mistake it from her vision. The worn blackened bricks waved in the heat, and the small shutter windows creaked in the breeze. Even the swing she had seen was swinging on an old oak.

"This is it" she whispered.

Jasper reached over and grasped her hand. A wave of calm filled the car and Alice squeezed his hand gratefully. Was there ever going to be an end to his kind forgiving nature? Jazz was her proof that these visions could turn out good. Better than good – Brilliant. Would this one be the same, or just a huge mistake? Taking a deep breath she parked the car, and stepped out into twilight.

The ambulance tracks were still visible on the lawn as she made her way towards the door. Jasper followed behind, giving her space to take it in. The front door was open, and Alice made her way into the house. The downstairs rooms smelt stale and musty and decor, although outdated, had no indications that she had lived here before.

Disappointment began to seep through her. This _had_ been the house she had seen. Suddenly Jasper's voice rang from up the stairs. "Alice, there's something here"

Whipping up the stairs and into the bedroom, she almost ran into Jasper. His stone hands held a plain wooden box towards her. The same box from her vision. Alice's whole body trembled as she lifted the lid, wondering how much of her past was inside. A pile of stained papers lay crumpled inside it. Her eyes drifted over the various pieces of writing; words jumping out at her like flashes of light. She spotted her own name, and swiftly pulled the paper out of the box.

It was a birth certificate. The feelings that rushed through her were hard to distinguish from another. Each as powerful as the next, working hard to overwhelm her. Although one brazen fact stood out from the rest: she had belonged to a family at one point. Alice had already discovered this during her months of research following James' death, but here was the proof. It touched her deeply that at one point she had been human. She had been loved. At least before the visions.

Tucking the birth certificate carefully back in the box, she selected out another item. This time it was a pale envelope, with careful neat handwriting on the front. _5 Oakley Rd, 1914_. She felt the soft matte of the photo paper and slowly pulled out a ripped photo. Alice gasped at the image. Although she would have only been thirteen at the time, there was no mistaking her cheeky smile or crow-black hair. It had been taken in the garden out front, even though then the ground had been thicker with grass and a washing line was hung across the porch. A young girl of about eight sat at her knees, with fair brown hair and round cheeks. Cynthia. As her fingers drifted past her younger sister, they felt the ripped edge of the photo.

Only a hand was visible of the person that had been torn off. It was resting on Alice's lithe shoulders. Flipping the image over, she noticed the elegant scrawl continued on the back. _Cynthia, Mary and Joseph, 1914_. Her breath caught in her chest, and she desperately scrambled through the papers again. It couldn't be, could it? What were the odds... and yet.

She found the paper she was looking for and read it over three times before she let out her breath. Each word seemed to punch her in the stomach and wind her. All the details matched up with her own certificate. She sat on the bed, still staring at the items in hand. Jasper stood over her, frozen with worry. "Honey? What is it?"

She looked back once more at the hand in the photo, to the certificate. The proof was undeniable, as much as it seemed so. She turned and stared hard into Jasper's worried eyes. "Jazz...I had a brother"


	4. People and Things that went Before

**People and Things that went Before**

5 Oakley Rd, 1914

Alice's hands ran across the smooth wrinkled lines of her father's new camera. She marvelled at it, longing to know how it worked. Curiosity didn't always have to be a bad thing, and Alice was _always_ curious.

The garden was hot and thick that summer, as if the air was too lazy to move. A delightful squeal behind her made the birds scatter across the blue sky. Alice started to turn towards the noise, when a pair of warm hands clasped around her shoulders.

"Wake up Alice!" Joseph beamed down at her. His grey eyes crinkled mischievously, as he flung himself onto the porch steps. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm wondering how it works" she replied, rubbing her thumb over the smooth grey buttons.

Without a cue, Joseph braced his hands against his chest, arching his neck. A perfect copy of their father. His voice deepened to a warm gravelly tone, and he began marching towards Alice.

"These things," he said, stroking his imaginary moustache, "are something _you_ don't need to know, Mary"

Alice shook with laughter at the uncanny likeness. Despite denying it, Joe had inherited something of their father's build, the shape of his face. Why did families have to be so difficult? If he had a choice, Alice knew Joe would pack his bags and leave tomorrow. After all, the war was going to come to America sooner or later. All the papers had been reporting it. The thought frightened her, and she stopped laughing abruptly.

She turned her face back to the camera and circled the camera, standing erect on the tripod. Leaning in, Alice lifted a finger and tapped at the lens. "This bit looks breakable. My bet's on it breaking today"

"Pessimist" mumbled Joe from behind her shoulder.

Alice ignored him, and focused her in the small window on the back of the camera. The world seemed to look smaller from behind glass, more distorted. "How can such a small thing stay together with all that inside?"

"I could say the same about you"

Alice turned to face her brother. His voice seemed far away, and there was pain that she had never heard in it before. They met each other's gaze for a second, before Alice moved from the camera to sit next to him.

Everyone in Biloxi knew Mary Brandon had a knack for predicting things. She knew which side the coin would fall on, and when it was going to rain. She was just...different. Unfortunately in Biloxi, different meant dangerous. So only she and Joe knew it was more than just blind luck that guided her. Seeing her mother fall before her eyes, even two years later, was not something she wished to see again.

Joe pulled her into a tight hug. The familiar smells of tobacco, dust and antiseptic felt safe to her, warm. She cocked an eyebrow at the cloying smoke smell that clung to his waistcoat. "You've been smoking"

"Only one!" Joe defended, his face a little too innocent to be believable. That was her Joe. Mischievous and protective to the last.

"Call your sister _Mary_, Joe! Why in Heaven's name do you keep calling her Alice?" Mr Brandon's rough uneven voice shook the newly re-settled birds from the nearby trees again.

Joe just shrugged, and winked at her. He preferred it, that was the reason why. Even when she was little, he had insisted on calling her Alice. Joe said she was definitely more of an Alice than a Mary. Anyone could be a Mary.

Cynthia jumped from the swing, and joined her siblings on the bottom porch step. It was a rare sight to see their father out of a white apron. Even rarer for there to be no medical instrument or medicine vial in his hands. Instead, he wore an appropriately brown suit with slightly age-worn buttons on the cuffs.

He turned his head to the empty doorway, and spoke into the house. "The Winters' child is still sick with the fever, Abigail. We must be quick, if I'm to get there by six o'clock" There was a rustling, and scraping of chairs as their mother, flustered as always, appeared on the porch.

She poked and prodded each of her children into acceptable degrees of tidiness, as her husband adjusted the camera. Collars were tucked and dresses dusted down. Alice had to hold back a snort of laughter as her mother tackled Joe's unruly hair with shoe polish.

"No one will notice," she tried to reason with her son. "You're hair is black as night anyway Joe. Don't make a fuss"

Once they were all in position, Mr Brandon took the picture with the quietest click. Cynthia wrinkled her nose up in displeasure. We had all expected more.

"Was that it, Ma?" She complained, holding out a hand for her mother's. Mrs Brandon swept forward and guided her youngest daughter into the house. Clearly baking was the best way to ease the disappointment.

Alice slumped onto the dusty floor, and huffed. After a few minutes, she realised that her father's voice had become agitated and angry. Looking over, she saw him fuming over the camera, tapping his hand across the lens. She and Joe exchanged a conspiratorial look. Mr Brandon soon gave up on the camera, and began marching back into the house.

"Joe, I'll need you to assist me this time. If you'll get my bag..." Joe looked back at Alice once more, before running into the house after his father.

Alice listened to the steady buzzing of the cicadas before her eyes found the camera again. It had been carelessly discarded on a cool window ledge inside the porch. Nimbly bouncing to her feet, she went over to the ledge and tentatively picked up the camera in her hands.

It had been as true as her word. There across the lens, were the beginnings of a crack.


End file.
